Stockholm Syndrome
by hunterintrenchcoat
Summary: The loneliness of Manhattan and its only citizen, Alex Mercer, is disrupted by the arrival of a stranger, incredibly intriguing and fascinating, even for a virus, whose only interest is kill and get what it wants.
1. Prologue: The way you see the world

He had been following him for quite a long time, about two hours to be precise, since he had got inside the now desert-Manhattan. He was watching him from above, on the roofs, silent, without being discovered. He was walking on the edge of a roof, following him stealthily, and he incredibly managed avoid his hawk eye, clever and observant. This was one of many things about the boy that had struck him: his way of looking at things, that accurate way of watching the surroundings and scanning the details. Sometimes he would break off his walking to look around and, in that moment, Alex hid himself, continuing to watch him from behind a wall, from above a roof or from inside an abandoned flat. That peculiar boy somehow had fascinated him, he could not stop looking at him, observing him, studying him. By now he had already recorded all his gestures: from his agile and athletic walk to his tongue teasing the even-too-pronounced scar on his lip.

He didn't know why on earth that boy was in the abandoned Manhattan, but the more he was going to remain there, the better it would be for Alex. He had finally found something to do, something that could really entertain him: after some time, dismember infected monsters tended to become boring and tedious. Watching the new arrival didn't require any effort, other than to not be discovered, but, for what he could imagine, the dark-haired down there didn't have any suspicion about someone living in there.

He must have done a misstep, because he suddenly found the boy's golden eyes pointed on his direction, now examining every part of his sight. Without losing his composture, he stood slightly back, making the least noise possible, hoping he was covered enough by the edge of the roof he was standing on. From that position, he could not see, hear or smell him; he was out of the range of his infallible sense of smell and line of sight. His eyes landed on a little rock not so far from him, he reached and picked it up, expanding his biomass and wrapping it around the stone. He threw it to the other side of the road, hoping it could draw the boy's attention away from the roof. The rock landed and rolled behind the corner of a palace and the noise echoed throughout the whole block, amplified by the unnatural silence of the city. He leant forward, observing the boy, who had carefully gone to check what was that noise. He found nothing and he looked around again, confused.

His confused look was wonderful.

His way of walking was wonderful.

His way of looking was wonderful.

He was wonderful.

And he wanted him.

It took around a second to take that drastic and senseless decision. He wanted him, he craved him, all for himself, he wanted to study him, he wanted to touch him, he wanted to look at him closer.  
And he would have had him.

* * *

_NB: I wanted to make some warnings. First of all, I immediately say that this will be an **Alex/Desmond** fanfic, so if you don't like, close it. There will be violent scenes and the world will be a little different from the one of the videogames; Alex and Desmond will be a little OOC. You have been warned, enjoy the read!  
NB2: I directly translated it from my italian/original version, so if it's somehow horribly-translated or horribly-set, I'm really sorry! I tried my best._


	2. Chapter 1: You are my prey, you are mine

That hadn't been easy. The little bastard could muddle through even too well, he had to admit it, while he was plugging the blood in his nose with the back of his hand. The unexpected elbow-nudge that had broken his nose in two parts had been a good shot, fast and devastating. He still couldn't comprehend how he could have been caught off guard so suddenly, it almost made him piss off.

He had lowered himself down on the road and he had been following the boy for a while, at close range, waiting for the right moment to act. His blood had a particular smell, it almost drove him crazy. Delicious.

The dark-haired male had stopped after ten minutes and the virus had attacked him almost instantly, believing that it was the moment he had been waiting for. He was wrong. The boy had immediately thrown his elbow back, blindly, as if he had had the certainty that Alex was behind him, and he had broken his nose with such a power that was almost too overstated for a human. He had began to run breathlessly, but the hooded figure with the face covered in blood had blocked him the way, out of nowhere, a few seconds later, letting him scream with pure terror. The boy however had managed to react and avoid Alex's grab, bending down and rolling back, dodging the biomass that had just extended menacing toward him. He had blocked the next whiplash with his forearm, but he had not considered a little particular: that sort of arm (or whatever it was) was a living-thing and it had been twisting up his arm, trapping him in its vise. His attempts to free from it had been useless and he had been too concentrated on his arm that he had distracted himself from the real menace, Alex, that had decided to end that thing, shooting a well-dealt punch in the boy's face, letting him lose consciousness.

The boy was now lying on the bed in Alex's sort-of-apartment, that looked more like a nuclear laboratory, at the tenth floor of an abandoned building. Despite that, it was clean enough, or at least he had become so, after the cleaning that he gave to host his new prey. Before that, it would have looked more like a surgery clinic, involved in human experiments: the blood he had left after devouring his last prey had not been cleaned until that moment. After all, Alex rarely spent time in the house, only to do chemical experiment with the purpose of enhance the effects of the virus. It all had born to find a cure, but he had become too addicted to the powers that the virus was giving him.  
He approached the boy and tied his wrists firmly to the headboard of the bed to avoid any attempt of escape and its necessary consequences. His last prey had decided to do heroic acts, trying to escape, and had come back to that house only as another of the many voices to add at the collection inside Alex's mind. Losing control again and consuming that boy too, would have surely annoyed him. Not that he couldn't easily find another prey, it was just because he was special, his amazing smell could prove it.

As he tied carefully the knots at his wrists, he remained there, watching him from above like a vulture watches his prey: his chest lifted and lowered regularly, his legs were abandoned on the sheets without composure and his face rested against his tied arm, partially hided by the shadow of the latter. He took his chin between his fingers and he turned him towards him, studying carefully every detail of his face. His warm breath was meeting his cold hand and in a certain way he was liking that, it was quite some time he didn't feel that kind of heat.  
-Mmmmh...- the other moaned, hardly opening his eyes.

His head was painfully pounding and his left cheekbone, where he had received the virus' punch, was throbbing too strongly. The room seemed to be terribly twisting and a sudden feel of devastating dizziness (probably nausea) hit him hard like a punch in the stomach.  
As he found Alex's face so close, he literally jumped on the bed and squirmed, complaining weakly about the pain caused by the too-tight ropes around his wrists.

-Oh fuck!- he shouted, jerking the ropes again. -What the hell is happening?!-

-You're finally awake.- Alex said, lapidary, standing up and watching him again from above.  
He loved being in a position of superiority among the others, it fed his pleasure in subjugating the world at his will.  
He took a chair from a corner of the room and he trailed it to the side of the bed, sitting down astride and letting his elbows lay on the seatback, just to make sure he would comfortably attend at the show that was going to begin.  
-Who the fuck are you?! And what the hell does this means?!- the boy screamed, continuing uselessly to wiggle.  
-Oh, you never heard about me?- the virus asked, almost surprised.

-No, it happens that I had been away from this place for a while. Could you tell who the hell are you?!-

-I don't like you tone, you know?- a devilish sneer appeared under Alex's gray hood. -But I will ignore it. My name is Alex Mercer. And you are...?-

The other male wavered a bit, studying the situation. That name hovered in his mind threateningly, as he had heard about it before but he couldn't remember: his appearance was enough to let anyone's blood freeze right in the veins. He decided to indulge his requests just for the moment to understand what he wanted.

-My name is Desmond...Desmond Miles.- he answered, swallowing a bit.

-Desmond.- Alex repeated, tapping the fingers on the dark wood of the chair. -Not bad.-

-Now, could you please tell me what do you want?-

-It's simple.- the virus shrugged with pride. -I want you.-

-Me?-

-You. Nothing else.-

Desmond blinked a couple of times, he couldn't understand. Maybe it was just the echo of the pain caused by the punch in the face he received before, but he couldn't really understand.  
-What the hell does it mean?-

Alex burst out laughing, his unsettling laugh spread around the room and it seemed to be echoing endlessly.

-That's not so hard to understand. I want you, your flesh, your blood...and why not? Your company, too.-

He laughed again, with the same macabre laugh, and Desmond felt the need of screaming loudly, tearing out his hands just to run away from that place. He jerked the ropes the hardest he could and the only result was the increasing of the burning sensation on his already scraped wrists.

-I don't think there's much you can do about those.- Alex continued, pointing them out proudly.

-What the fuck is this?! A joke?! Because if it is, it's not funny! Release me!  
-No, Desmond, this is not a joke. That's exactly as I said. I captured you, you are my prey, you are mine. Now you belong to me.-

An evil smile was printed on Alex's face, who had glanced up shortly before, revealing his charming blue-iced eyes that was resting mischievously on Desmond's body.

-Fuck you! Fuck _you _and this damn place! I don't give a f...-  
He couldn't finish to speak that the virus in half-a-second had stood up and had thrown the chair against the wall behind him, smashing it in little pieces. In a strange way that Desmond still couldn't explain, his arm had become a shapeless cluster of tissue (that at sight seemed to be muscle tissue), which ended in three huge, thin, silvery blades. He felt them against his throat in the same half-second and he had just a moment to ask himself how the fuck Alex could be so fast.

-Oh shit! Shit! Shit shit shit!- he screamed, scared to death, he never felt the terror massacre his depths so hard in his whole life.  
-You will learn to respect me, Desmond Miles.- his voice had suddenly become hoarse and deep, almost ghoulish. -One way or another. Or do you prefer me cutting your throat and devouring you without any mercy?-  
The younger man didn't even dare to swallow, feeling one of the three blades pressing dangerously on his carotid. He barely said "no", shaking his head, relaxing a little when he felt the blades drawing away from his throat, curving inwards from where they came out, with that same tissue now recomposing quickly Alex's human arm. He could barely stay conscious in front of that scene, feeling suddenly weak.

-You will stay here until I won't decide the opposite. And you will do what I say. Do we have a deal?- the virus continued, gripping Desmond's face violently with his fingers.

-Y-yes...-

-Good. We could even get on well this way. It would be the first time...- he concluded, leaving the room grinning.  
"The first time"? Desmond gave the umpteenth despairing jerk to the ropes, deciding to give up just for the moment at the umpteenth burning sensation that irradiated down his wrists.

This time he had really drowned in a sea of troubles.

* * *

_NB: Finally, the first chapter! As the same: sorry if it's not well-translated, I did my best in about an hour or two because I wanted to post it this evening. I hope you will enjoy it!_


	3. Chapter 2: Amaranth blood

_I'm sorry for posting this so late, I had a huge period of frustration and I couldn't find ispiration, so if it's not really good (in narration, translation, etc.) I'm really sorry, I hope I will write better in the next chapter._

_**Warning**__: this chapter contains blood._

* * *

Long hours had passed since Alex had brought him there, or at least he believed so: it could have been days or even minutes. There were no clocks and the windows were completely sealed, so it was nearly impossible to perceive the passage of time.

When he had begged Alex to take him to the bathroom (it seemed that the virus wasn't aware of humans' physical needs, having carelessly tied and abandoned him there) and he had passed through the "living room" (if it could be called so), the only room in which the windows weren't completely obscured by the planks blockading them, he had seen the typical light of sunset.

The shape-shifter had freed him after some hours of yells and pleas, in which he had thought he could have gone crazy, taken Desmond and pulled out his damn vocal cords with his bare hands, almost regretting every choice he had made. Since he didn't want to kill him before games had started, he had decided to untie the ropes and free him, take him abruptly by the neck and throw him inside the bathroom with scorn, being sure he couldn't escape anyway. After some endless time (Alex hated wasting time, especially to keep an eye on the despicable human), in which Desmond had unsuccessfully tried to find possible ways out, the virus had broken down the door, not caring if the other could have been naked or not, tugged him back to the room in the same way and thrown him inside without tying him again, closing the door behind his shoulders with such a violence that had made the walls tremble. He had been too angered to stay nearby him just another second and, had he not gone away, he could have devoured him in half-a-second.

So Desmond found himself walking back and forth in the room, doing push-ups and wondering for a time that seemed endless for him. He still could not understand what was going on, what he had seen some time before and what Alex wanted to do with him and the doubt was torturing his stomach, already closed enough itself.

He stood up from the floor, where he had sat to think, he reached the door, trying to make the least noise possible, and he leaned over the lock: he looked through it and he didn't see anything. He inspected carefully every angle of the other room to verify the absence of the shape-shifter, when a shadow suddenly passed in front of door, giving him a damn huge scare.

-Holy shit...- he hissed, trying to slow down his almost painful heartbeat that had just skyrocketed.

He regretted having opened his mouth when the door suddenly opened wide in a second and he jumped back just in time to avoid taking the iron handle right in the face. He landed on his back and choked a gasp on his throat, right before finding Alex overlie him completely. He tried to defend himself by shooting his knee up in the air, but the blue-eyed male blocked it easily and squeezed it, making the other male suffer and groan in pain.

-It would be way better for you if you didn't make things difficult.- Alex whispered in his ear, grinning satisfied as he felt a shiver run down the pressed body underneath him.

-What the fuck do you want now?- Desmond spitted out, wiggling without success.

The virus' biomass kept his wrists stuck on the floor with such a strength that Desmond almost felt them break and he ground his teeth. Alex smirked again maliciously, getting close to his neck until the tip of his nose touched the amber skin, making another shudder spread though it, and he was really beginning to enjoy the game.

-I like the way you tremble below me.- he whispered again, running his tongue across Desmond's neck, enjoying every shiver and groan of the other.

-Fuck you.- Desmond blurted out, trying to avoid Alex's touch.

-Are you accustomed to talk to people like that? How cocky...-

The shape-shifter laughed amused and began to torture his neck mercilessly, biting and sucking viciously the skin, leaving evident red marks behind his passage. The other male cursed himself when a moan caught him in the depths of his throat and echoed inside the room, pleasing Alex above him, who stood up some time later, licking his upper lip mischievously. The boy swallowed, feeling the fear prevaling again.

-You have a delicious scent, Desmond. Especially when you are scared.-

An instant later the virus' teeth sank fiercely in the already reddened and violated neck, without warning, tearing the flesh and opening the passage to the blood, of a splendid amaranth, which immediately slid down his shoulder. A wrenching scream of pure pain slipped out of Desmond's lips, who tried uselessly to escape from the other: his body was firmly pinned to his and the biomass around his wrists didn't give a sign of loosen the grip.

Alex licked away the red trace from his neck, that reformed right after, and he ran his tongue on his lips, savouring every shade of taste, before beginning to suck on the opened wound, moaning and panting (for pleasure or what, Desmond didn't want to know), forcing the blood-leak.

The other male felt his head twisting hard and began to hyperventilate, trying frantically to take as much breath as he could inside the lungs, as he felt a painful feeling of pressure on his chest. Something very close to the panic took him completely and his heart began to pound furiously, preventing him from taking deep breaths and increasing the constraint on his chest.

He really believed that he was going to die, when the shape-shifter abruptly moved away some seconds later, throwing his head back, moaning and licking his lips. He laid his eyes on Desmond under him and grinned as the fresh blood dripped from his mouth. He covered the wound with a kind of bandage prepared before to avoid further and worthless blood losses: a few centilitres were enough to fill him and the minimal loss allowed to the prey to recover fast enough and feed him again.

Meanwhile Desmond began to tremble spasmodically and tears were running down his face; in his last moments of awareness he understood that he was going to have a true panic attack and the revelation horrified him even more as he remembered his last crisis, many years before, when he was 16.

In his house on the Black Hills, The Farm, during his Assassin's training, the Templars' arrival had been simulated (if "simulation" it could have been called): Desmond hadn't been able to handle the situation and had fell into absolute panic. It had been the straw that broke the camel's back and a a little later he had decided to go away, escaping through the continent. Badlands, Omaha, Chigago and finally New York.

At the confused and unintelligible murmurs of the boy (he could only understand a few muttered phrases, like "they found us", "we have to go", "I'm afraid to die"), Alex could almost feel intrigued, if he wasn't too busy enjoying the pleasant sensation of euphoria that drinking blood gave to him. He extended his biomass to take Desmond, by now in the grip of delirium, and leave him on the bed, when the male weakly clung at whatever was holding him and repeated many times "I don't want to die".

The blood that the virus had just absorbed had a rather strange reaction, like he received an electrical shock. Thanks to the absorption he was beginning to resettle his functions: in some time his strength would return very tough and his five senses would recover to full intensity. Not that he would become completely weak or harmless if he didn't drink blood, but he would considerably lose vitality and this fact annoyed him quite a lot. His chemical experiments were necessary also to avoid this loss and stop his dependance on humans.

However the thing that left him puzzled was indeed that kind of shock, never felt before: nothing serious, but he had sensed it clearly. He placed the shaking body on the bed, making sure he didn't press the wound, and he remained there to stare at him: Desmond had a brief moment to see him bowing his head and looking at him with a strange attitude, before he sensed his sight darken and passed out, without knowing if he would ever wake up again.

* * *

_I hope you liked it because I had some dissatisfaction with this chapter!_


	4. Chapter 3: Queens

_Once again I'm really sorry for the delay, I even said to someone I would have posted on wednesday but then I didn't, the things to do have increased a lot and I couldn't work on this well enough, I'm really really sorry! I hope it's worth the wait!_  
_I put some geographic names on because I wanted to be really precise, but if there are some mistakes I'm sorry, I'm from Italy and I could only use Google Maps!_

_I also wanted to thank you all for your reviews, I'm so glad there's someone who likes this, keep review (obviously if you want and if you like this) because it makes me so happy! :)_

_**Warning**__: this chapter contains blood and violence._

* * *

When Desmond opened his eyes, a huge ache hit him hard in every part of his body: his limbs seemed numb, as if he had been running or fighting all the night long. The pressure on his chest had barely lowered, but it was still there, forcing him to take brief and fast breaths, and that surely didn't help to drive away the anxiety that was lingering around him without any reasonable explanation; to make thing even worse there was the strange confusion that had taken his mind, like he was still dreaming even if he was awake.

With this mixture he had difficulty organizing his thoughts and reconstructing what had happened before he had passed out and it even seemed like he wasn't in his own body, because it didn't respond adequately to his commands. The anxiety was rising and his breaths were becoming faster and faster, he turned his head but a sudden and throbbing stab made him scream and wriggle in pain. He lifted his hand to look for the cause of that pain and he felt the rough fabric of the bandage around his neck.

Alex opened the door, called by the yell, and when the younger man saw him things became clear, but a moment later he had the annoying doubt of why he was feeling like that. What if that monster had transformed him, infected him or who knows what else?

-What the fuck did you do to me?!- Desmond yelled, now visibly terrified at the idea of becoming who knows what kind of creature.

In a fit of madness he tried to rip off his bandage to see what the virus had done to him and he ended up scratching himself in a desperate attempt to remove that barrier, leaving pinky stripes on his own skin. The virus immediately blocked his hands.

-Don't do that, you'll ruin everything this way.- he said in an apparent indifference, holding his wrists with a hand and trying to replace the bandage with the other one.

-Get off me! Get off me, you bastard!- the younger man continued, struggling with all the force he can take on, only messing up the gauze even more.

Alex lost his patience and gave him a sharp tug, facing him down, and he kept him stuck on the mattress with a knee on his back and a hand on his head, pressing his face on the sheets.

-Calm the fuck down or I'll do it, your choice.- he grunted, balancing himself to add weight on his knee and explain him his real intents.

Desmond tried to calm down, focusing the most he could on his heavy breath, because he perfectly knew that it was better to calm on his own and don't piss Alex off. If the shape-shifter really had infected or transformed him, it was useless to get upset, because it surely would have been to late and there would have been nothing to do with it.

As soon as he felt the boy relax beneath him, Alex replaced his knee with the hand that left the grip oh his hair, so he was no longer pressing him but he could still keep him under control.

-Good boy...- he whispered in his ear. -Now turn around.-

The assassin obeyed, fearing the worst, and when he turned with his back on the mattress he found the virus' blue eyes hooked into his own, his face so close that he could even feel the aura of intense heat he released. He wasn't even breathing and that was unsettling as hell, like his appearance was not enough already...

In that moment Alex felt again that adrenaline rush he had sensed the evening before and, annoyed by the fact that he still couldn't understand what was it, finally turned his gaze away from Desmond to place it on the bandage around his neck.

The said male jumped when the virus' hands touched him and their eyes met again, he cursed his involuntarily reactions that were playing bad tricks on him. Luckily Alex did nothing strange this time, leaving him a bit puzzled, as he simply fixed the bandage, doing and undoing the knots. He suddenly stopped when he heard a strange noise coming from beneath him.

The assassin bit his lip so hard he almost draw blood, as he perfectly knew that the noise came from his stomach. The shape-shifter looked him up and down.

-Well...I...maybe I'm...a little hungry...- Desmond said, trying to break the tension that had taken possession of the room.

His stomach rumbled deeply and Alex suddenly stood up as he lost his patience once again, almost scaring the other to death because he thought he was really going to kill him this time. He saw him take a few steps back and forth the room with his fists clenched along his sides.  
The virus glared at him with scorn, opened the door and slammed it with violence, going out without saying a word and leaving behind him a scared but relieved Desmond who was surely glad he didn't hurt him more.

Alex couldn't ignore the request of the undermost human as he admitted that he was right: he hadn't been eating for two days and the fasting certainly couldn't help him recover. He kicked the small wooden table next to the unused couch, making it fly across the room and sending it to the other side. That mess frustrated him in an unimaginable way, but he had to do it if he wanted him to stay alive.

He opened the huge windows that dominated the living room and he climbed the sill, breathing the fresh air of the desert Manhattan. He got out, using his biomass to hang on the outside crossbeam, and he carefully closed the window, making sure it was firmly sealed, before letting go and free-falling down the building. He perfectly landed on the ground, causing a blast wave that moved debris and various things left on the road and leaving an impeccable circular crater on the concrete.

He began to run and soon reached an unimaginable speed; after one hundred meters or so he abruptly slowed down, balancing himself with a hand on the ground, to change direction the fastest possible and turn right at the first crossroad.

In less than five minutes he reached the frontier of Queens, now yellow zone, highly militarized: a brigde, the Ed Koch Queensboro Bridge, connected Roosevelt Island with Manhattan and Queens. The soldiers were stationed halfway between Manhattan and Roosevelt Island, blocking the passage while holding off at the same time. Alex hid behind a wall, studying a plan.

Jumping off the bridge halfway and directly landing on Roosevelt Island was not the best idea, he would have drawn too much attention: he had to cross it completely and reach Queens. He grunted when he realized the shit he was going into. What for? To get food to the human? The thought frustrated him so much he wanted to kill all the damn soldiers in front of him, but it would have been a bad move: if he wanted to let his prey live long enough, he had to do that crap. He licked his lips as he remembered the juicy taste of Desmond's blood and he decided to go on.

He went back in the main street and he looked around: he grinned euphorically when he saw a yellow half-crushed taxi at the side of a crossing. He approached it and, grabbing the side bumpers with the hands, he lifted it up over his head without many efforts. Hold it in position he ran towards the bridge, reaching high speed in a bit.

As soon as he saw the tanks, he threw the taxi forward with all the strength he had, using the kinetic energy of his running to boost the throw. A moment before the impact he heard a soldier screaming and that yell gave him a diabolic and sick euphoria.

The taxi hit a tank, causing it to explode and kill most of the troopers around with the fragments of the explosion. Taking advantage of the dark smoke, Alex infiltrated in the middle of the disaster, hiding between the bridge's beams: he activated his thermal vision to find the soldiers through the thick smoke and he approached the most isolated one, who was compulsively coughing and pointing his weapon everywhere in an attempt to defend himself blindly.

He grabbed him by straps of his uniform and he trailed him a bit far from there as he yelled startled.

-What the...?! Who the fuck are you?!- the soldier screamed, unable to see the man's face and recognize him.

The shape-shifter smiled maliciously, wrapping a hand around his neck, and proudly spelled his name with his deep and rough voice, enjoying the soldier's shocked expression emphasized by the smoke surrounding them.

He literally knocked his fist in his chest, perforating his flesh and beginning to absorb his body mass, as blood squirted everywhere, smearing Alex's clothes and the ground. The soldier couldn't even let out a noise, as the biomass slowly ate his flesh, the pain was beyond words and thoughts.

The torture went on until Alex hadn't completely absorbed him, only leaving a huge puddle of blood on the concrete. He altered his appearance, modelling his biomass, as far as he acquired the aspect of the just-disappeared soldier. He walked towards the voices of the other troopers until he came out of the smoke cloud, meeting all of them.

-Red Crown, this is Alpha 1-1, we have been attacked!- a soldier yelled to the radio.

"Copy Alpha 1-1, this is Red Crown, estimation of damages?" the radio attached to Alex's uniform crackled.

-We lost Alpha 1-2 and several men.- the same soldier continued.  
"Can you describe the accident? Who attacked?" Alex lowered the annoying volume of the radio and went near the man, who was speaking and panting.

-Negative, Red Crown. Something...appeared out of nowhere...like it dropped from the sky. We're still verifying!- the soldier finished, heading towards the virus with such a worried look, and then he placed a hand on Alex's shoulder and shook it to get full attention.

-Listen up! Take Ghost and go call for backup, maybe Red Crown won't be quick enough and I don't want to be attacked by some bloody motherfuckers in this condition! Go check if that jeep there still works! Go!- he said.

-Ahm...yes, sir.- the shape-shifter responded at attention, pleased that his plan was making progress, before heading to the said soldier and making him a sign to follow.

Ghost responded nodding and followed him, both got on board and Alex, calling on all the memories in his head, started up the car, engaged the gear and went toward the Queens.


	5. Chapter 4: Incident along the way

_I know, this time I definitely posted with huge delay and you know that I'm really sorry as always. The reasons are always the same: lack of time, will and inspiration. Forgive me. _  
_I put a moment of "comic sense" because I felt like this chapter was too violent and tragic (not that I mind but I wanted to change something), I hope I will not appear ridiculous. I hope you will enjoy it too._

_**Warning**__: this chapter contains strong violence._

* * *

Reached the Queens, Alex stopped the car in front of the large gate of the military block and got down. As soon as he looked inside, he froze: a viral detector overlooked the emplacement, surrounded by well-armed soldiers and fortified walls. Cursing, he verified that there was no way to ring around the block: he swore under his breath and damned himself since he should have expected such a situation. He surely had been too reckless.

His companion stopped to the side of the gate and inserted his hand in a machine that at sight seemed to be a fingerprint reader: the control panel gave green light and the gate opened enough to let the man go in. Overstepped that, the soldier ran across the base and reached the general's office to the opposite side, passing through the detector that didn't give off a single sound. The shape-shifter carefully studied it and discovered that its range covered the whole emplacement: there wasn't a damn way to avoid it.

Entrusting himself to the luck, he opened the gate like Ghost had done before and ran towards the way out the faster he could (obviously not at his normal speed or they would have surely recognized him), ignoring the first signals of suspicious alert. However as soon as he was close to the second gate, which got on the streets of the city, a soldier suddenly sprang up in front of him with the hand lifted up to stop him, making him waver. He realized that luck spit right on his face when the bastard detector began to sound the total alert as it was sure of his presence.

He didn't even had the time to move a single muscle that immediately a hail of bullets flayed him on his back, making him groan in pain and fall on his knees; his biomass automatically restored the damaged tissue and then thickened and covered him completely, protecting him with a thick armor that could at least resist assault rifle's bullets.

The soldier in front of him stared at him for a moment, completely still and shocked, before he regained his senses and grabbed the radio hanged at his jacket to call for backup.

-Red Crown! We have Alex Merc...hrrggh- three huge blades pierced him side to side, brutally perforating his flesh.

-Don't. You. Dare.- the virus hissed in his last moments of life, before completely absorbing the man and acquiring new and fresh mass.

Immediately after he faced the remaining soldiers that stood behind him: he strongly planted the claws on the ground, spreading chasms on the concrete as if it was made of butter. Huge spikes rose from the same soil around him, directly hitting most of the military and staking them instantly. The remaining men were dismembered or absorbed at close range.

After the clean sweep, Alex quickly came out and ran on the street: he changed into a young women around 30 years old to turn out the least suspicious (he didn't even remember why he consumed her, maybe just for necessity) and he headed towards the closest shop, while tanks and military transports poured on the streets to reach the accident's location. Well, coming back home could have been a problem.

He entered the store and suddenly a sensation of refusal and annoyance hit him like a frozen shower: him, Alex Mercer, the most dreadful person of New York (maybe of the whole planet)..._doing shopping_.

...seriously? How the hell that stupid idea came to his mind? A sudden anger, blind and apparently implacable, burned him up his throat, frustrating him definitely too much. The point was...by now he was there and he even worked hard to get to that place. It wasn't worth going away, he might as well go on.

He swallowed hard and snorted as he ventured into the shop sections, feeling like the most ignorant person of the entire world in a nuclear power station surrounded by button of any kind that could have produced a massive catastrophe in a few seconds. Since he wanted to end that thing quickly, he used the memories of the normal people he had consumed, especially the ones from his host that was embodying, who seemed to be enough "skilled" in such tasks.

He randomly picked up some ready-food, like sandwiches and crackers since they were small enough to be carried in his jacket. He reached the exit and crossed the cash register with indifference: definitely a bad move.

-Where do you think you're going, miss? You have to pay!- the cashier barked out acidly approaching him and the virus' nerves jumped at her annoying voice.

-Get the fuck out of my way.- he hissed sharply, possibly making her perceive the threat that followed his tone.

Yet he forgot that he was in the shoes of a (apparently) charming and nice 30-year-old woman and the message he wanted to give didn't reach the destination.

-Excuse me?! I will call the police...!- the woman shouted on purpose, noticing the two policemen that were walking nearby and looking at them suspiciously.

-Do it, I dare you.- Alex growled, losing his patience.

The clerk wavered a bit as she didn't expected such answer, before she motioned to the cops to make them get closer. She looked at them confused as they suddenly stopped and blanched: she didn't have the time to turn again towards the shape-shifter that a large blade cut her in a half sideways in a moment, splattering blood against the two police offers that froze in front of him. Alex reacquired his original form without withdrawing his blade that instead leaned towards the two men.

-You want some too?- he said provocative with a sneer that crossed his face completely.

The cops looked at each other and then freaked out as they ran away, joining the crowd that had attended Alex's show and was now running everywhere. The virus laughed darkly while his arm returned normal and then he put the stolen food in his pockets that were fortunately large enough to contain them.

Suddenly a helicopter appeared out of nowhere down the road and shot a rocket right towards him. With a catlike reflex Alex jerked to the side and dodged it with agility as he growled loudly, now visibly pissed off.

"Enough."

He drew his claws threateningly as his eyes began to grow of a glowing dark red, but suddenly a brilliant idea flashed in his mind and made him run up a building, leaving cracks on the walls every step: he found his return ticket. While he was running vertically up the walls, his right arm changed form again: once he was on the roof he waited for the helicopter to come closer, dodging rockets and bullets jumping from rooftop to another. When it was close enough, he extended his mutated arm for an incredibly length, grabbed the wing and pulled it towards himself, while at the same time he took a running leap from the ledge.

The pilot apparently was smarter and cleverer than him: he abruptly turned the vehicle at the last moment and Alex violently banged against the tail, whose rotor ripped up his left shoulder. Fortunately he managed to cling at the vehicle and prevented from falling to the ground (not that it could make such damage but the fact was that he didn't want to lose the opportunity of a quick reentry to red zone), but the sharp and persistent pain on his shoulder made him irritatingly aware of the lack of biomass to heal the wound.

-You son of a bitch!- he yelled, jumping to the right wing with the other arm.

The helicopter rotated again, slamming him against the other wing, and just for a bloody miracle the main rotor didn't slice through his head. That would have been a _giant_ problem. He held on the best he could with the injured arm to extend the healthy one, grab the cabin door and open it: he jumped inside immediately, taking advantage of the momentary steadiness, and angrily consumed the two pilots, before taking control of the vehicle.

Thanks to the just-absorbed biomass, the battered wound finally healed, giving Alex a bit of relief: pleased to having concluded the mission, he turned the helicopter and headed back to Manhattan.


	6. Chapter 5: Glass slivers

**Attention please**: during this period of time (in which I had a lot to do so sorry if this chapter is not satisfying, I wrote it quickly) I thought about the plot. Since it wasn't entirely definited, it has been modified a little: don't worry there aren't big changes, but the most rilevant one is that there's no more smut, I'm sorry. I realized it made no sense in this fanficion and I decided to remove it from my original project. I think I will leave M rating because it's violent anyway, but there isn't smut anymore. If you want to read smut, I will surely write it in my other fanfiction "Reversed" in a few chapter or maybe more (it's not advertisement, if you don't want to read it just don't, I wanted to advise. I hope I didn't disappoint you and I hope you will enjoy. Thank you so much for following and reviewing! :)

* * *

As he found himself lying on the concrete, staring at the gray sky of the city, with throbbing pains all over his body, he realized that something had gone wrong. He sat up, growling as a glass sliver stuck on his left hip moved due to his movement, and he saw the helicopter in flames crashed against the entrance of a nearby building. His body was covered in burning and aching cuts and grazes: the smallest slivers were expelled with the healing, but the largest ones, which were three or four, remained firmly clung to his flesh. He extracted them one by one with his hands, leaving the skin free to heal, and once he completely recovered and freed his mind from pain, he realized what happened.  
Surface-to-air missiles.  
He cursed the bastard who had invented them, especially when he noticed that he was on the opposite side of Manhattan from his refuge. He felt strangely tired, but most of all pissed off: why get into all that trouble just for some food?  
Oh right, the food, god knew how much it was messed after all that happened. He took the packages out of his pockets to check their state: they were quite mistreated, but certainly edible, the wrappers were intact.

Wait...why did he care so much? What made his prey so special to make him worry? The most probable reason why he was so irritated about this was that he hadn't worried about something for a long time and doing such things for stupid concerns made him vulnerable. And he hated being vulnerable.

He snorted, putting everything back into the pockets, and ran towards the refuge, exerting all his remaining strength, trusting the fact that no one would follow him: for what he knew, those idiots would have presumed him dead or simply wouldn't have found him anyway.

Desmond swore loudly against the window that didn't really want to open up: he was too weak for efforts and his stomach didn't stop its complaining. The tiredness was unbearable and he began to be seriously afraid of dying, because Alex had been gone since a lot of time, as always he didn't know how much, but it surely had been long. What if he left him there, without even food?  
A shiver ran through his spine at the thought: he didn't want to die, not there, not for hunger, it would have been one of the worst deaths he could ever face. Had the window been made of glass, he could have easily broken it, but apparently Alex was really clever. He gave the last tug to one of the wooden boards that covered the window before leaning against them and sliding down to the ground.  
What would have happened to him? He would have died or would have had to stay here forever? He closed his eyes and wrapped his knees with his arms, trying to think of nothing: he felt himself being surrounded by the darkness while he slowly fell to an uncertain sleep, temporary or conclusive, he didn't care.

He suddenly snapped his eyes open as an idea came to his mind: glass! It could be his way out, in the bathroom there was a mirror, he had seen it the first time he had been there. He stood up and headed to the bathroom, hoping that the precious mirror was still there: thanks to all the saints he knew, he found it, he just needed a way to break it. He grabbed an old and dusty towel nearby, shook it off from the dust and tied it around his hand to protect it from splinters: then he punched his own reflection, distorting it and sending the mirror into a lot of irregular pieces. That meant seven years of bad luck but he didn't care much because it couldn't get any worse.  
He analyzed the pieces of glass and picked up the sharpest one, wrapping it in a piece of ripped towel and putting it in his pocket without risk of injury. He had a plan, but he wasn't sure of its success: for how good it seemed, he had a bad feeling about everything. He prayed to everything holy there was in the world, hoping that his plan would work despite the bad feeling that tormented him, and sat down at the table in the main room, waiting for the shape-shifter arrival.

He waited, and waited, and waited, and when he was almost certain that the man in question would have never come back, the door suddenly burst open, slamming against the wall and closing back on its own inertia. Alex stepped forward, blood dripping from his clothes, and slowly walked towards the table where Desmond was sitting. The younger man stood up and stepped back to maintain the distance, until the virus stopped exactly in front of the table and put an hand in his pockets. The assassin held his breath, clutching the glass piece in his pocket and expecting the worst, and then opened his mouth wide when tatty packets of sandwiches and crackers fell on the table.  
-Eat.- the virus said in an ambiguous tone, that seemed something between an order and an advice.  
Despite the incredible urge to take the food and gulp it all down like lions do when meat is thrown to them, Desmond had a precise thing in his mind.

-What does this mean?- he asked, with the tone he usually used to piss someone off.  
-Weren't you hungry?- Alex blurted out irritated, he couldn't understand what kind of question the other one was asking.  
Apparently Desmond had hit the target.  
-You expect me to eat that? Have you poisoned them or what? Drugged, maybe? I'm not gonna eat it, I'm not a fool.- he said keeping the same tone, unrolling the glass from the towel in his pocket, trying not to get noticed.

-What are you trying to say?- the shape-shifter darkly asked. -If you knew what I've gone through to get that, you wouldn't even dare talk to me like that.-  
-No one ever explicitly asked you to do it, so don't think you made such a venture and don't get your head up.- he spat right on the virus' face with the more nerves than he ever had in his whole life, certain that Alex would have attacked him right then.

Yet it didn't happen, because the man focused more on the first sentence and was strangely dumbfounded. That was right, it was his decision: indeed the young man didn't explicitly asked him, he didn't even beg and he didn't seem to be seriously starving. He could have ignored him or just put off the problem to another moment as he ever had done with the other preys (not that they had survived that long anyway). Then why didn't he do the same with Desmond?  
He looked right in his eyes, revealing his own, and when their gazes met he felt it again, that shiver down his spine that had irritated him so much before. There, he could feel, again. He had unconsciously tried to keep that feeling alive, not much the man himself, but the feeling he gave. He wasn't sure what kind of feeling it was, because he didn't feel anything for a long time.

Drowning in his thoughts, he didn't notice that Desmond had approached him, taking advantage of his musing, and he was then facing him, without moving his gaze away, which had changed: it was scared, but at the same time challenging. Alex continued to stare at him a bit confused, trying to interpret his look.

He would have never imagined such a thing: Desmond's arm suddenly snapped towards him, pulling out of the pocket the bare glass sliver and pointing directly at the virus. Alex saw it with the corner of his eye, so shiny and threatening: but, since he had delayed reflexes due to the last battles, he shifted back too late and he couldn't avoid id.  
The transparent and sharp tip sank into his throat, perforating carotid and trachea together and ripping out a strangled groan of pain from the shape-shifter. Alex fell to his knees, softening the fall with a hand on the floor, while the other one threw up to his neck, trying to identify the weapon. It hurt, a fucking lot, the irregularity of the blade just multiplied the pain.

Desmond stood there for a moment, staring right at him: he had to admit, just for a moment, that he pitied him, that wound had to hurt like hell, but then he ended up thinking that he just deserved it. He couldn't remain there. Certain of safety, he turned and ran towards the door, leaving the virus in agony on the floor.


End file.
